


Hearts, Heights and Haute Couture

by SuchAFangirl



Category: Glee
Genre: Community: kbl-reversebang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchAFangirl/pseuds/SuchAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The frantic pace of Fashion Week is no time to fall in love, but against the odds Kurt and Blaine will find a way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts, Heights and Haute Couture

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kurt/Blaine Reverse Bang Challenge 2013. Art by Mary - http://peggystarkk.tumblr.com/

**_Vogue’s Fashion Week Insider  
NEW YORK: Day 1_   
  
Twice a year our offices here at Vogue thrum with activity, everyone eagerly anticipating the unveiling of the Spring and Fall collections, better known to most as Fashion Week.   
  
On the surface, it’s all about glamour – the collections and catwalks, make-up and accessories. But behind the scenes there’s another story, a darker side that hides behind the beauty created there. It’s a tale of looming deadlines, long days and sleepless nights. Stress is at maximum volume, emotions are high, and none of that is ever good when you’re dealing with an industry of Divas. Yes, that’s with a capital D!   
  
While our fashion editors bring you news of the latest collections, I’ll bring exclusive reports of the activity and gossip that occurs behind the runways of New York, London, Milan and Paris.   
  
Hold on, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!   
  
_F.W.I_**   
  
~*~   
  
Fifty two floors above the streets of Manhattan in an elegant rooftop garden setting, Kurt might as well have been in heaven. He worked the party like a pro, tray in hand, effortlessly collecting empty glasses as he sashayed between the fashion elite of New York. He knew the faces well, had seen them a thousand times before between the covers of Vogue, GQ and Bazaar, but this was his night. He walked among them, confident in the knowledge that he belonged, and it resonated through the spring in his step and the perpetual smile on his face.   
  
Sure, to most he was just a bus boy, collecting empty champagne flutes and loading them ad nauseam into the washer behind the bar. That’s how it was supposed to appear, because nobody was to know. Kurt was undercover. His waiter’s uniform blended perfectly into the background allowing him to do what he needed to do without raising suspicion. He could circulate, observe and learn with absolute freedom, and at the end of the night he would go back to his computer and put the finishing touches to the next installment of "Vogue's Fashion Week Insider." It was his first feature column and even if it was anonymous, it was a huge leap forward for his career.   
  
Kurt had long ago decided that Isabelle was the personification of a fairy godmother, and his current assignment was absolute proof. How else does one explain a month long trip to follow Fashion Week from New York to London, Milan and then finally Paris? It was Kurt’s very own dream come true.   
  
Speaking of dreams come true, there was another of those in the same room that night. A young man with the hair of a 50's movie star, a mega-watt smile, a twinkle in his eye and a casual confidence that made him seem six feet tall despite his small frame. Kurt brushed past Hiro, their photographer for the evening, whispering another request in his ear, "Guy in the grey suit, bow tie."   
  
"Gotcha!," Hiro replied, then proceeded to do exactly as Kurt directed, gathering candid snaps of Kurt’s chosen subject.   
  
With a tray full of dirty glasses, Kurt made his way back to the bar, finding Isabelle loitering there, waiting for him. "Kurt, darling! Thank you for everything." She leaned over the bar waiting for him to put down the tray before cupping his face and placing a grateful kiss onto his cheek. "It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful."   
  
"You’re welcome." Kurt blushed, proud that he had pulled together the sumptuous Vogue Fashion Week Gala, meeting budget and exceeding the expectations of both his superiors and their patrons.   
  
"There isn’t a soul in this room who hasn’t taken a moment to gush and congratulate me on this event. Of course, I’m giving my invaluable assistant the credit he deserves, but since he couldn’t be here tonight," she winked for dramatic effect, "he should know that I really do appreciate and love everything he’s done." Isabelle clasped his hands fondly before letting them go and returning to a nonchalant stance at the bar. "Can you pour me another champagne please, darling? And one for yourself while you’re at it."   
  
"Isabelle, you’ll blow my cover."   
  
"Nonsense. Everyone’s already five glasses in. At the most they’ll think I’m trying to bag myself a boy toy." They both giggled at the absurd prospect.   
  
Kurt passed Isabelle’s drink over the bar and poured himself a soda water. "Actually…" Kurt began, and Isabelle’s eyes widened with interest.   
  
"What? Who?" With a few champagnes under her belt, Isabelle’s voice rang a little too loud in Kurt’s ears. Embarrassed, he looked around, only to see that Isabelle was right. No one paid them any attention.   
  
"The guy in the far corner with Allison Hateley, Calvin Klein and his boy du jour."   
  
Isabelle giggled at the ease with which Kurt dropped names and catty comments. He fitted the fashion world perfectly and she couldn’t wait to unveil him to the world at the end of the month. She looked across the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the man in question.   
  
"Blue shirt, bow tie. Dazzling smile."   
  
Isabelle’s eyes locked onto their target. "Oh, that’s Allison’s partner."   
  
"Partner? Damn! Remind me to get my gaydar serviced."   
  
"Business partner, dummy. Your gaydar is as well tuned as mine."   
  
"Single?" Kurt asked hopefully.   
  
Isabelle smiled conspiratorially, "I don’t know, but give me a few minutes and I’ll find out." And with a wink she was off, working the room as if she hadn’t skipped a beat.   
  
Kurt didn’t see Isabelle again until the end of the night, when the last guests had departed and it was just the two of them, sitting back at the bar, filling their glasses with the last of the Champagne. New York Fashion week had ended in true Vogue style with a fitting celebration that they had planned and orchestrated to absolute perfection. Isabelle raised her glass high in a private celebration of their triumph. "To the best damn party planners Vogue has ever seen."   
  
"I’ll drink to that!" Kurt smiled, happy to let his guard down at last and let the subtle sweetness of good champagne fill his senses.   
  
"Oh, and that boy of yours?"   
  
"Hmmmm?"   
  
"Blaine Anderson. Single, twenty one, and absolutely charming."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"And that’s not all…" Isabelle’s lips curled into a smile that Kurt knew well. She was hatching a plan. Kurt just hoped he would like it.   
  
"Well, don’t keep me in suspense!"   
  
"You’re going to be seeing a lot more of him. Allison’s sending him on the circuit. You’ll have the next three weeks and the beautiful cities of London, Milan and Paris to help romance on its way."   
  
"Great." Kurt replied glumly. "What good is that when I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile?"   
  
"Come on, Kurt. Don’t give up before you’ve even started, you’re better than that. Resourceful, clever, and drop dead gorgeous to top it all off. Go get him!"   
  
"Thanks, Isabelle." He kissed her cheek fondly. They’d been strangely close from the moment they met, and rarely a day went by when he wasn’t grateful for the supportive way in which she’d guided him through life.   
  
"Now, I think it’s time we went home. Tomorrow’s a big day, and I need that article from you by 3pm."   
  
Kurt grinned. "I’m all over it." The night’s events were sorting themselves out in his mind and forming the closing paragraphs already. An hour or so sorting through Hiro’s photographs and he’d have the article complete.   
  
They hugged at the door and set off in opposite directions with partings of "good night" and "sweet dreams." Kurt’s practically skipped to the subway, high on the success of the evening and his head swimming with the wonder of the opportunities and possibilities that lay ahead.   
  
~*~   
  
**_Vogue’s Fashion Week Insider  
NEW YORK: Day 5_   
  
  
  
So, New York, that was Fashion Week!   
  
The close of Fashion Week is a big deal for everyone in this industry. First, there is a collective sigh of relief that it's all over for another six months, and then comes the Champagne. Fashion week is one party after another, and if it weren't for the fact that everyone is terrified of the calories associated with alcohol, we'd all spend the week drunk. The exception to this rule is Vogue's Fashion Week Gala - the last official event of the week. Behind closed doors we kick of our Christian Louboutins and really let our hair down. With an average consumption of two bottles of Champagne per person, the treadmills should be running overtime this week.   
  
Now, if you thought some of the catwalk fashions were a little over the top, you haven't seen anything yet. Our Gala Gallery showcases some of the most talked about gowns of the evening. When designers forget their rivalry and celebrate for a night, it's all about creativity and artistry, and probably shock value too. Most of these pieces will never see a catwalk, much less the designer racks in Sacks, but they make a feast for the eyes.   
  
At events like the Gala, the suit is almost mandatory for men, and it leaves a lot less room for improvisation. With that in mind, I'm giving the Fashion Week Insider's best dressed award to the brightly colored, though perfectly harmonized, ensemble pictured here. Those who say the era of the bow tie is ending need to take a closer look because, as this sharp individual shows, there's so much more we can do with this classic accessory.   
  
_F.W.I_**   
  
~*~   
  
It was Blaine's first trip abroad, a legacy of a family divided by age and interests. His parents had traveled with Cooper before Blaine was born, but for Blaine, holidays were summer camps or visits to his grandparents while his parents sent postcards from far off places. Those cards filled Blaine’s dreams with exotic islands, ancient ruins, rainforests and mountains, and though he longed to join in on his parents’ adventures, the closest he ever got was a trip to Disney World when he was eight. He really didn't remember his parents being around for much of that trip either. His brother, Cooper, was the one who took him to all the theme parks, held his hands on the rides, then bought him churros and Mickey Mouse ears.   
  
In the crowded passenger lounge with a passport and boarding pass finally in his hand, Blaine was as excited as a kid on Christmas day. London, Milan, Paris. Cities full of history, culture, and culinary delights ready for him to discover. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of and he found it difficult to keep still as he stood at the boarding gate.   
  
Blaine had been preparing for a month, ever since Allison handed him the golden opportunity to take her place at fashion week events. Blaine was sure that after three years of running the business herself and trying to squeeze everything into her increasingly heavy workload, Allison was grateful to be able to pass this task onto him and just breathe for a while. He'd bought himself new luggage (instead of the over-used case he'd had since he boarded at Dalton), joined the frequent flyer program and carefully considered his options for flying attire. There was a toothbrush and a change of clothes in his carry-on, in case his baggage was not there at journey's end, and mints to keep his breath fresh. He'd even preloaded his iPad with reading material for the flight. With the rush of events during New York's Fashion Week, he hadn't had a chance to even look at the coverage and see how the industry was responding to the designs revealed for next spring.   
  
It was Kurt's first trip abroad too, though his journey had a calmer start in the airline club lounge, a guest of Isabelle who was travelling business class. Kurt tried not to worry about how cramped he might be in economy and focused instead on the few moments he had of large cushioned chairs, exotic cheeses and good wine. The lounge seemed to be filled with industry people, beautiful, some of whom he recognized, others he just assumed by their immaculate presentation. Kurt had made a conscious decision to dress for comfort and felt a little under dressed in his yoga pants and over-sized cable knit. At least they would serve him well when he was sitting at the back of the plane trying to catch an hour or two of sleep before he hit the ground running in London.   
  
By the time Kurt and Isabelle made their way to the boarding gate, the queues had dissipated and it was a simple case of walking through and onto the plane. Kurt was grateful he requested an aisle seat. The crew welcomed him on board and as he walked through the plane toward his seat, he again noticed the high dress standards of most of the passengers. He had little doubt the plane was comprised almost entirely of the Fashion Week entourage, and he was sure they were judging him.   
  
Kurt approached his row and saw a crop of curly brown hair in the seat next to his, then honey-brown eyes looked up and landed on him. They were all too familiar, every dark speck and shining highlight, because he'd spent the best part of the previous day getting lost in them. Hiro had done an excellent job of following Kurt's instructions and there were easily thirty shots of Blaine Anderson from every possible angle. As far as Kurt could tell, he was perfect from head to toe. The man smiled as he caught Kurt's eye, and Kurt’s stomach seemed to drop to his feet. Kurt smiled back, perhaps a little too brightly for a supposed stranger. He wasn't sure if the seating arrangement was a blessing or a curse, but he had to keep his wits about him if he didn't want to blow his cover.   
  
Kurt took a few moments to collect himself as he pulled out his in-flight essentials. He thought twice about the magazines which might have been a bit of a give-away and settled instead on reading the Lonely Planet guide he bought especially for the trip. He placed the book on his seat together with his iPod and a roll of Mentos to get him through the ear popping take off. It took a little fussing to make enough room in the over-head compartment for Kurt's satchel but, by the time he was ready to sit, Kurt had managed to process his lucky seat allocation and regain his composure. He scooped up his belongings and planted himself next to Blaine, pleasantly surprised that there was more leg room than he imagined and that his knees didn't touch the seat in front.   
  
"Is this your first trip to Europe?" Blaine asked, looking at the book lying in Kurt's lap.   
  
"It's my first trip anywhere," Kurt replied with a smile. "We'll, not on US soil, I mean." He leaned forward to place his gear in the seat pocket, put on his belt and relaxed back into the seat with a relieved sigh - a European holiday was the perfect cover... not really a lie, but not the complete truth either. He offered his hand to Blaine with renewed confidence. "Hi. I 'm Kurt."   
  
Blaine shook his hand warmly. "Blaine. And this is my first trip too, but I'm travelling for work, so I don't know how much I'll see."   
  
"Oh? What kind of work do you do?" Kurt asked, knowing part of the answer, but eager to get more details. Unfortunately, Kurt didn't get a reply immediately because the official safety announcements began before Blaine could get a word out. He offered a look of genuine apology which gave Kurt no doubt that their conversation was nowhere near over.   
  
Over the roar of the engines Kurt silently offered Blaine one of his Mentos as they taxied down the runway, but it wasn't until the plane had leveled out a little and the seat-belt light was turned off that they had the chance to speak again.   
  
"I'm actually a stylist," Blaine picked up where he had left off, "but you probably wouldn't guess by the way I'm dressed now."   
  
Kurt had honestly not even looked at what Blaine was wearing; he'd been too focused on those eyes, and the curls that rested freely on his head – a distinct contrast to the slick gel-locked style he’d worn the night of the party. The comment gave him permission though to make a quick appraisal (too quick for Kurt's liking). "I don't know, the Henley is a timeless classic, and I suspect that I won't find those jeans in a regular store."   
  
"You caught me. They’re from a boutique in the East Village. Stretch Denim. They're the most comfortable thing I own."   
  
"Stretch denim beats yoga pants any day."   
  
"I think that depends on who's wearing them,” Blaine stated, the corners of his mouth twitching and a sparkle in his eye.   
  
Kurt felt the flush rise in his cheeks. Was Blaine flirting with him?   
  
"Anyway," Blaine continued, seeing he’d made Kurt slightly uncomfortable with his remark, "my boss is sending me to take notes on where designers are taking things over the coming seasons. It’s Fashion Week, you know."   
  
"Really? I had no idea." Kurt struggled to keep a straight face, eternally grateful that he had put aside his strict personal dress standards for the seven hour flight. His usual outfits would have told Blaine that he was lying.   
  
"Well, technically it lasts a whole month by the time it winds up in Paris, but who’s complaining about three weeks in Europe? Not me!" Blaine seemed to catch himself rambling. "Sorry, look at me talking shop. I'm probably boring you to death. What keeps you busy, Kurt?"   
  
"I'm a writer, though originally I trained to be an actor. I still perform at karaoke bars and can bring on the tears as required, so at least college wasn't a complete waste." It was a close version of the truth. When Kurt finished his training at NYADA, he was utterly conflicted about leaving Vogue and New York to pursue the rare acting opportunities that were available. He cried his way through writing a heartfelt, thankful resignation letter, but when he had his scheduled meeting with Isabelle, he couldn't hand it over. His father has always told him to trust his heart and so, he did. He asked for a full time position and was immediately handed the role of Assistant Editor. It was as if Isabelle had been expecting it all along.   
  
"Life has a way of doing that. I started out at Harvard Business School, dropped out, and look at me now - on my way to Europe!"   
  
"Okay, now that's too convoluted for there not to be a story behind it. Indulge me," Kurt prompted with genuine interest.   
  
Kurt's easy manner disarmed Blaine, and he went on to reveal that enrolling in Harvard had been at his parents' insistence, something he wasn't very proud of. He hated it even more than he thought he would, dropped out, then moved to New York determined to find his own way in life.   
  
"I applied for anything and everything. The men’s accessory counter at Macy’s wasn't my first choice, but they gave me a shot and it proved to be something I was really good at." Finding the right pocket square for every occasion had come with an ease that was inexplicably natural to Blaine and a growing number of customers came to rely on his ability to pair any shirt with the perfect tie.   
  
"That's how I came to the attention of Allison Hateley." Kurt didn't let on that he knew Allison, cutting edge stylist and the go-to girl for the younger faces of New York’s social elite. "She’s an absolute whiz at throwing together an effortless combination of dresses, shoes and handbags for all her female clients,” Blaine explained, "but Allison lacks confidence when it comes to men’s fashion. On the few occasions she took on a male client, she’d visit to ask for my advice." He mimicked Allison's cutesy voice, "I have enough trouble keeping up with the latest from Burberry and Jimmy Choo, let alone keeping track of what Paul Smith is doing."   
  
Kurt couldn't help but laugh, high and free, and the sound made Blaine's smile even wider.   
  
"So I watched the social pages of the New York Times, looking to see who would be wearing my selections. It was people you recognize by their surname only, the sons of old-money New Yorkers attending gala openings and fundraisers. Later I started noticing Broadway stars and TV celebrities wearing my clothes. That's when it all got rather crazy.   
  
"I guess Allison’s proposition was the next logical step; she took me on as junior partner and handed over all her male clients. I've been growing that side of the business for the past year."   
  
Kurt immediately wondered how it was that he'd never heard of Blaine before.   
  
"And that’s how Blaine Anderson made the move from business student, to salesman, to full time stylist." Blaine waved his hand with a flourish and attempted a bow in the restricted airline seat.   
  
Kurt responded with faux applause. "That's quite a tale," he said with a smile, wishing he could share his own similar story. "It's great when you have a boss that really values you."   
  
The conversation lulled as the plane's lights dimmed to allow passengers to sleep. Kurt took a pillow and blanket as they were handed out, determined to make up at least some of the hours of sleep he'd lost that week. "It's been lovely talking with you, Blaine, but I really should get some sleep."   
  
"I understand. Sleep tight, Kurt." Blaine reached for his iPad and turned it on, going straight to his off-line reader app. He was a little disappointed the conversation had ended so soon, but he hoped there would be more time to talk later.   
  
Kurt adjusted his position in an attempt to find a semi-comfortable way sleep. Just as Kurt was about to shut his eyes, he turned to Blaine, "Can you make sure I don't miss breakfast?"   
  
"Sure."   
  
That's when Kurt caught sight of what Blaine was reading - his own Fashion Week Insider column. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, but still aware of Blaine's breathing and every shift in his movement. Sooner or later he was bound to come across the article which showed Blaine's picture.   
  
Blaine's whispered "No way!" was the last thing Kurt remembered before he succumbed to the overwhelming tiredness that comes with organizing a function for six hundred judgmental people.   
  
Kurt slept far more soundly than he ever thought possible. The comforting aroma of bacon stirred him to consciousness without intervention. As he slowly woke, he became increasingly aware of the slight scratchiness of the blanket and then the solid warmth beside him. Startled, he opened his eyes, horrified to find he had left the boundaries of his own seat and was leaning almost wholly on Blaine. He sat bolt upright. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"   
  
Blaine put his hand on Kurt's arm to reassure him. "It's okay. I didn't mind. Really. I would've left the arm rest down if I valued my personal space. You looked so uncomfortable pushed against it though."   
  
Kurt calmed a little, though the embarrassment would take much longer to fade. "Still, I'm really sorry. I don't normally do this kind of thing"   
  
"What? Sleep with a guy you just met?" Blaine quipped. "Just please stay for breakfast, it's the least you can do."   
  
Kurt laughed, a heartfelt laugh from deep in his belly. "I guess I owe you that much."   
  
The final hours of the flight went all too quickly. Kurt and Blaine continued the light flirty nature of their banter, learning a little more about each other. Kurt handled the big picture topics with ease, but when things got too specific, he shifted the focus back to Blaine. Blaine followed along, eventually allowing Kurt to direct for fear of hitting more road blocks. Kurt was holding back, and though he didn't know why, he thought better than to push.   
  
By the time they were leaving the plane, Blaine was still confused by Kurt's hot and cold manner. Still, it was one of those now-or-never situations and Blaine decided to take the risk. He caught up with Kurt as he was removing his case from the baggage carousel, and pulled a business card out of his wallet. "Maybe we can catch up and swap travel stories when you get back to New York? I'd love to hear from you," he said with affection, pushing his card into Kurt's free hand.   
  
Kurt face broke open with a huge, genuine and happy smile. "I'd love that. Goodbye, Blaine." He leaned in and kissed Blaine gently on the cheek, then walked away. While Kurt jumped into the taxi with Isabelle, excitedly discussing his fortunate seat allocation and his next column submission, Blaine was left standing alone, hoping that Mr. Right had not just walked out of his life.   
  
~*~   
  
**_Vogue’s Fashion Week Insider  
LONDON: Day 1_   
  
Today I had the honor of flying with my esteemed colleagues and industry associates on the trans-Atlantic flight from JFK to Heathrow. Pity the slob who wore their track suit or yoga pants, they were clearly outclassed by the linens and silks of their co-passengers.   
  
Fast forward seven hours and it's a totally different story. Those less classy stretch knit ensembles actually hold up very well to both the upright sleeping required of economy passengers, and the almost-horizontal sleeping position afforded to those travelling business class. The path to the baggage carousel looked more like a walk of shame than Fashion's Hall of Fame. Moguls who donned themselves in luxurious fabrics and 4 inch heels came off second best to the People of Wal-Mart on this occasion.   
  
But fear not, I can offer you a few pieces of sage advice that will enable you to hold your head high at both ends of the trip.  
• Wear flat, roomy shoes. Those 4 inchers are a bitch to walk in when your feet are swollen.  
• Go through the casual and resort wear collections of your favorite designers. Sweaters, T-shirts and the like still look amazing when crafted by knowledgeable hands.  
• Stretch denim! Jeans are a fashion icon in their own right, perfect to dress up or down, but sitting in them for long periods can be torture. Find a great fitting pair made of stretch denim and you'll have found the perfect travel partner.   
  
And finally, to the flawless creature in seat 40B, many thanks for inspiring today’s column and for setting the benchmark the rest of us need to aspire to.   
  
_F.W.I_**   
  
~*~   
  
Blaine went straight from the airport to his hotel room where he crashed, completely worn out from the excitement of the travel and his grossly interrupted sleep cycle. He woke in the morning, refreshed and ready to face the rush of events ahead of him. Toast and coffee prepared him for the day, and thanks to the hotel's Wi-Fi, he was able to update his subscriptions and check on the latest news.   
  
He enjoyed reading the light-hearted coverage of Vogue's Fashion Week Insider. Week one focused on the planning the Vogue Fashion Week Gala. The anecdotes were witty and the commentary was heavily laced with sarcasm, but the thing that shone brightest was the deep fondness The Insider had for the fashion industry. The column was helping Blaine to understand and finally love the superficial business he stumbled into.   
  
Blaine was shocked though to find himself featured in the Gala coverage. Incredibly flattered, but deeply shocked. He'd been a fish out of water that night, shadowing Allison as she introduced him to designers and they made small talk over Champagne. He was the new kid on the block, small and insignificant compared to the greatness that surrounded him. All of that changed with The Insider's validation of Blaine's very own style. It's amazing what a few words can do, but to Blaine, The Insider had laid out the welcome mat and for the first time he felt like he deserved his place in the world of fashion.   
  
Blaine opened the newly updated column, eager to see what London would hold for The Fashion Insider. Blaine read with delight the recount of a flight filled with fashionistas, very much like his own trip. He'd noted the unquestionable style of most passengers at the boarding gate, but by the time they reached London, Blaine only had eyes for Kurt, and the other passengers could have walked off the plane naked for all he knew.   
  
As he read on, The Insider handed out practical, well thought advice to the fashionable traveler, then in the final paragraph Blaine froze, unable to take in the words fully, staring unbelievably at the seat number printed on the screen. 40B. His seat!   
  
Looking around the dining room, he wondered if The Insider could be watching him at that very moment, but he shook the ridiculous notion from his head. Whoever the Fashion Week Insider was, they had better things to do than stalk him. Didn’t they?   
  
Across London, Kurt was already on the job, observing Burberry's design team prepare the collection for the catwalk. It was the part of the assignment he was looking forward to the most. He had designed clothes for as long as he could remember, first for teddy bears, then for power rangers, before moving on to the creations that helped earn him a place on Isabelle's team. Chronicling the creative process of one of the great fashion houses of Britain would be a career highlight, and Kurt had to pinch himself to check it wasn't all a dream.   
  
The column practically wrote itself that week, the hardest part was selecting which tale of genius or insanity was the best to put into each day's report. It kept him so crazily busy, that Kurt barely had a second for his own thoughts, much less time to actually take in London before he needed to move on. That was why, on their very last night in London, Isabelle took Kurt to the London Eye.   
  
"Just forget we're sitting in the most hideous blight on the London landscape, and just take in the stunning views" For dramatic effect, Isabelle threw her arms wide to embrace the city around them. It wasn't a difficult order for Kurt to follow.   
  
From the top of the Ferris wheel, London lay open below them, sparkling and beautiful. Its low lying architecture allowed views for miles with St Paul's standing high and proud in the middle of it all. Kurt snapped a few pictures on his phone, the only souvenir he would have of his week spent there.   
  
London wasn't the only thing Kurt missed that week as he was buried deep in the manic rush to get Burberry's collection to the runway. He hadn't even set eyes on Blaine since leaving him at the airport, but his business card had pride of place in Kurt's wallet and he smiled every time he set eyes on it.   
  
As if reading Kurt's thoughts, Isabelle broke the silence, "I've been keeping a close watch on your man for you," she informed him. "He even asked about you."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Well, not you exactly. The Fashion Week Insider. It seems you've got him a little nervous."   
  
"Just so long as I have his attention."   
  
"Oh, you do, darling. You definitely do."   
  
Kurt took one last photo as The Eye began its slow decent. He sent it to Blaine's number with the simple message _Wish you were here. K._   
  
Blaine was thousands of feet above London as Kurt rode the London Eye and when he touched down in Milan, the message was the first thing he read. _Likewise_ , he replied, sending along a picture of the Italian flag that flew proudly outside the terminal. By the time Kurt received it, he was standing in the very same building.   
  
It was almost a week before they found themselves in the same place again at Emporio Armani’s show; Blaine as a guest and Kurt working backstage with the artistic director. To say the situation frustrated Kurt would be an understatement. He was so desperate to talk with Blaine again and though he was only a few feet away, he was completely unable to do so. Instead, Kurt watched quietly from behind the partitions, trying to catch glimpses of the man who had filled his dreams for the past two weeks.   
  
The weather was warm and Blaine had worn a white shirt hanging loose over moss green linen pants. The cuffs of the pants were rolled slightly and the look was completed by a pair of equally relaxed loafers. Blaine’s style was effortless, comfortable and confident. Kurt snapped a covert picture from the gap beneath the partitions, thinking it was time again to let Blaine know just how perfect he was.   
  
Kurt ended his self-torture there and called it a night, heading back to his hotel room, unfortunately alone. In seven days it would all be over. Kurt Hummel would be out in the open as Vogue’s new columnist and if everything worked out as he hoped, he'd finally have that date with Blaine.   
  
It was a little longer before Blaine could sneak away from the after-party. Isabelle Wright had him cornered once again! She was ever present it seemed, though Blaine knew she had good reason to be in the same places as him. She was a lovely woman, but her personal boundaries were askew at times, particularly when wine was involved. She’d questioned him on his love life more than a few times and referred to him as husband material too often to count. Blaine had seriously wondered if Isabelle herself was The Fashion Week Insider, thinking his stalker theory might actually be close to the truth. Then he’d shook the thought aside, reminding himself that Isabelle was old enough to be his mother and completely aware of the fact he was gay.   
  
Still, the identity of The Insider continued to intrigue him.   
  
~*~   
  
**_Vogue’s Fashion Week Insider  
MILAN: Day 5_   
  
  
  
If you’ve been reading my column all week, I’m sure you have realized where I’m headed with this last installment for Milan Fashion Week. After jewelry, handbags, millinery and the ever under-appreciated belt, there’s only one stone left unturned, and many would argue it’s the most important of all.   
  
The shoe is by far the most functional of all accessories, offering protection to our precious feet and adding grace, color and contrast to any outfit.   
  
The wedge is back, in bold colors, unique materials and heel sizes which vary from sensible to lawsuit-waiting-to-happen. Today’s gallery takes you through the essential wedges you’ll need to get you through the summer. You can put away your stilettos for a while, give your back a rest and enjoy a season or two of stability and style.   
  
And what for the fashionable man about town, I hear you ask? Shoe polishers are going to have an exceptional year as brogues are back and the look is shiny, shiny, shiny. For casual occasions, the best dressed men in Milan are showing us that loafers are where it’s at. Socks are optional and pants are worn a little shorter to show off those sexy ankles.   
  
While I head on to Paris to begin my next assignment, I want you all to treat yourselves to an indulgent pedicure. Take a little time out to get those feet into tip top shape for a summer full of fashion and comfort.   
  
_F.W.I_**   
  
~*~   
  
Blaine arrived in Paris a day before the first parade, eager to explore the city he’d dreamed about before duty kept him occupied for the rest of the week. It started in a café tucked away in the streets behind Notre Dame, reading The Insider over Café au Lait and a Pain au Chocolat. The anticipation he felt as he loaded the column each day was an unusual feeling. After three weeks he felt he knew The Insider like a friend and he over examined each article to see if any clues would surface to solve the mysterious columnist's identity. None did, but once again Blaine was greeted with an image of himself, shot low to the ground and showing off his new Italian loafers. It didn’t even surprise him. He was almost expecting it.   
  
Blaine spent the day walking the city from end to end, wishing he had someone to share the experience with. He began at Notre Dame and wound his way haphazardly through the streets, parks and along the banks of The Seine. By nightfall he’d arrived at the Eiffel Tower and he made the climb to the observation deck alone.   
  
The views across the city were stunning. The night was clear and the soft lights of Paris twinkled below him. The landmarks he’d passed throughout the day were clearly visible and beyond that laid more and more of the city yet to be explored. He pulled out his phone and took a picture, returning Kurt’s previous sentiment, _Wish you were here._   
  
He wasn’t expecting the swift reply or its content. _I will be. Friday. Meet you there at 7.30_   
  
~*~   
  
The Paris collections should have excited Blaine a lot more than they did. After three weeks of parades and parties, Blaine was growing a little tired of it all and he wanted nothing more than to fast forward to Friday when he could see Kurt again. There were still highlights on the catwalk each day and Blaine continued to make notes and send them back to Allison daily. It kept his mind occupied at least.   
  
The best part of each day was breakfast with The Insider. The Paris updates were the funniest of the lot. The Insider was moonlighting as a model for the week, and each day the column had a different story which told just how out of their depth the poor Insider was. There was the fitting with so many pins that every slight move cause pain. Rapid changes were difficult for the novice to master, and handing over control of hair and make-up had almost induced a panic attack. Blaine understood that completely. There was no way he'd ever put himself at the complete mercy of a hairstylist.   
  
When Friday finally came, Blaine was a ball of energy that could not be contained. Only twelve hours and two collections stood between Kurt and him. His excitement was only magnified by The Insider's announcement that their catwalk debut would be at the Dsquared2 show. The mystery of The Fashion Week Insider would be solved at last.   
  
Blaine made sure he got to the Dsquared2 event early, securing a position right near the front of the runway. He watched each model step out onto the catwalk and immediately dismissed those he recognized, but there were at least four other models who were contenders for the position. Blaine hoped for a small sign of recognition to clue him in. It never came. The collection had been revealed and there was only the next season's preview to go.   
  
Blaine watched as the first outfit was paraded out onto the runway - a deep red jacket, bulky and warm, fit for the most bitter New York Winter. It took a few seconds longer for Blaine to look past the bright color of the coat and actually see the model in it. He was startled beyond belief.   
  
  
  
The room was suddenly bright and the crowds faded away. All he saw was Kurt walking gracefully and determinedly toward him. Blaine beamed from his seat, looking up at the perfect man before him. Slowly the puzzle pieces fell into place and Blaine could see the complete picture. The evasive conversations, the random mentions in the column and the probing questions of Isabelle Wright.   
  
A few hours later, they stood high above the streets of Paris on the top observation deck of the Eiffel Tower. "It looks even more beautiful tonight," Blaine said as he slid his hand into Kurt's and laced their fingers together.   
  
"We need to do this again. Though next time, let's actually do it together."   
  
~*~   
  
**_Vogue’s Fashion Week Insider  
PARIS: Day 5_   
  
  
  
If you haven't caught the coverage of the Dsquared2 collection, then you missed the unveiling of yours truly, Kurt Hummel, Assistant Editor and new columnist at Vogue.com.   
  
I joined Vogue as an intern four years ago, though I have been a fan all my life. Even armed with years of background knowledge, my assignment as the Fashion Week Insider has been eye opening.   
  
Sure, there were plenty of diva moments, catwalk catastrophes and moments of glory, but the one thing I have seen over and over again this past month is that fashion is full of passionate and hard working people. Make that exceptionally hard working people.   
  
It has been hard to find a moment to myself this past month, let alone enough time to find love or nurture a relationship. So, as I wind up my column in the city of love, it seems fitting to pay homage to the husbands, wives, partners and families who support the men and women of our industry. You hold us up and make all the hard work worthwhile.   
  
And this is where I leave you. My time as the Fashion Week Insider is done, and I'm going to spend a little time exploring Paris with Mr 40B before taking my new post back at the New York office.   
  
_F.W.I aka Kurt Hummel_**


End file.
